


Profaner of the Vices

by Backwards_Blackbird



Series: Tied as One [3]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: A potpourri of seven deadly sins goodness, Belly Kink, Body Worship, But in a very cozy context, Decadence, Demonic instincts, Drinking, Eating, Hotel Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwards_Blackbird/pseuds/Backwards_Blackbird
Summary: Copia did not often drink the night before a show day. Tonight was an exception.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Dewdrop Ghoul | Fire Ghoul
Series: Tied as One [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882246
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Profaner of the Vices

**Author's Note:**

> How to write my most self-indulgent fic: a guide.
> 
> This started out as a short little Copia body worship drabble about a month ago, but I just couldn’t leave it alone. So this is the final result.
> 
> Huge thanks to @ephemeralgrime for her tireless cheerleading and support, and for encouraging me to stop being so goddamned bashful and just post this!
> 
> For those new to the party: Tied as One is my collection-in-progress of unordered snapshot fics about Copia and Dewdrop (whose demon name in my verse is Daius). Welcome aboard the S.S. Dopia. Hope you enjoy your stay. <3
> 
> Catch me on Tumblr - @backwards-blackbird. Thank you for reading, and comments are always appreciated! Peace!

**Profaner of the Vices**

****

_November 1st, 2018_

Copia did not often drink the night before a show day. Tonight was an exception.

He was a strangely disciplined man of sin, Daius had come to see. He was particular in his every routine, and he did nothing in excess. He very infrequently smoked, in order to preserve his voice. He rarely overate, and he even more rarely overdrank, in order to preserve his pert, tastefully curvy figure. He was as careful and controlled with his personal habits as he was with his rituals, which he choreographed as tightly as a ballet—much to the chagrin of the Umbrae. Although they certainly weren’t about to complain and risk losing their free ticket to Earth’s delights.

They say one’s body is one’s temple; and for Copia, that temple is carefully maintained within an inch of its life.

But it was on this chilly November evening that Daius had triumphantly witnessed him indulge just a bit more than usual.

“What kind of Satanic Cardinal are you?” the demon criticized from yet another white-on-white oversized hotel bed. He’d stripped down to his undershirt, and his suspenders hung uselessly at his sides. The harvest moon peeked through the window from above the Chicago skyline. “Fuck, man, if I were you, I’d be living it up every night. Go hard or go home. Get yourself some points with the big guy,” he said as he pointed a thumb to the floor.

Copia finished the last of a glass of Malbec and set it down with a clatter. He pointed a finger at the ghoul. “Look… It’s less about Satan and more about me. I indulge when I feel like it, not just for the sake of doing it.” He slipped a forkful of tonnarelli into his mouth. “And tonight, I felt like it. I had a craving.”

“Ah, I know all about those, yes,” Daius said languidly as he reclined on his side. 

Copia swallowed and raised one suspicious eyebrow. He pursed his half-painted lips as he gestured with his fork. “Now, demon… Demon, don’t make this into a sex thing. I know how you do.”

Daius tilted his head and spread his hands in mock-offense. “Hey, man! I didn’t say anything about sex. And don’t call me ‘demon.’ You make me feel like a tempter,” he said with a shudder.

“Hmm. You fucking sound like one right now,” Copia teased, his sleepy eyelids hooding his bicolored eyes. It made Daius smirk to see him so undone for once, his hair unkempt and his cheeks flushed crimson from the wine. He looked absurdly luxurious sitting at that white-cloth-covered table in such an expensive suite, an empty wine bottle at his side and a liberally portioned dish of pasta half-eaten before him. He gathered more tonnarelli on his fork at a lazy pace. “It’s quite good for room service. Precisely what I needed. Would you like to try it?”

Daius shook his head. “I haven’t taken to eating like the others have. It still feels strange. But this—” he waved his hand in abstract ellipses, “What’s it called again?”

“ _Cacio e pepe._ ”

“Gesundheit.”

Copia snickered into his napkin. “It’s _cacio e_ fucking _pepe!_ How have you not heard of this? It’s a staple.”

Daius shrugged. “Umbrae don’t have to eat, Cardinal. The chances of me knowing a very specific Italian dish are pretty slim.”

Copia held his hand up testily, pausing the conversation while he swallowed. “It’s pecorino, black pepper, tonnarelli. Three ingredients. _Very_ specific,” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

The demon flipped over onto his stomach and propped a hand under his jaw. He grinned like a fox. “ _Whatever_ it is, I’m happy to watch you eat it all night.”

The Cardinal’s piercing eyes flicked back up at Daius in warning. At the glint of light from his white iris, the demon felt a peculiar prickling run through him. There was enough of a silence that he heard the furnace kick on. “You’re making me nervous now, Daius,” Copia said quietly, his fork clinking against the plate with reduced confidence. “How can I have my overindulgent evening with you watching me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mumbled into his fist, his disposition unmoved. “Am I being rude?”

“It’s generally rude to watch a man when he’s eating pasta, yes.”

“Hmm, I see.”

But rudeness was hardly a concern for the demon as he watched Copia eat, the frontman’s self-consciousness quickly overtaken by hazy satisfaction. He hummed pleasurably after a few bites, and the unrushed smoothness of his motions—his thumb leisurely catching a peppercorn at the corner of his mouth, for instance—indicated the wine was doing a fine job. And something fundamentally demon in Daius, an instinct at the core of his infernal mind, flooded his body with fire at the sight.

Never before had he seen Copia so at ease.

He sometimes wished he could enjoy food the way humans do. It was with some measure of envy that he watched Copia gain such comfort, such classically sinful pleasure, from eating just a little more than he needed to. But arousal certainly outweighed envy. 

Daius sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek.

Once he had finished, Copia sat back and stretched, the buttons of his black waistcoat underscoring the curve of his belly. He gripped the arms of the chair, and he let his head fall limp over the back. His hair hung loose behind him, and Daius gazed from behind his mask with wide, unblinking eyes. “Oh, I will regret this tomorrow,” the Cardinal muttered.

“The Hell you will,” Daius insisted as he stood, perhaps with too much vigor. He slowed his eager feet as he approached, and he casually steadied himself with one hand on Copia’s shoulder. “I mean… Come on. That’s the idea behind ‘comfort food,’ isn’t it?” he asked, the human phrase clumsy and ridiculous on his tongue. “You owe this to yourself far more often.”

“Hm,” Copia hummed, a skeptical hand tracing along his stomach. “If I want to fit into these suits, then no.” 

Daius offered his spindly grip and brought him to his feet. The Cardinal swayed as he stood like a reed in the breeze. “You could always buy less fitted suits,” the ghoul suggested.

Copia stared at him, eyes wide and incredulous, like he had just insulted his mother. “Now, you see, it doesn’t fucking work that way.”

Daius nodded in concession. “Well, you won’t catch me complaining.” And with a flick of the wrist, he was fiddling with the Cardinal’s collar, undoing one button, then two. His incorrigible fingertips had already begun to stroke the dusty brown curls beneath his collar bone before Copia noticed the intrusion.

The Cardinal encircled the demon’s dainty wrist entirely with one gloved hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said with little conviction, but plenty of drowsy annoyance.

“Helping the cause,” Daius purred.

“Helping the cause, eh?” 

“Yes,” Daius asserted, his captured right hand subverting the conversation as it ghosted along Copia’s parted lips. 

“And what cause is that?”

They both knew how this ended; several months into the tour, this was hardly the first time this exchange had occurred. The demon’s left hand endeavored to spread over Copia’s hip, caressing along the curves of his waist and his soft lower back. His body was utterly unique to Daius: voluptuous but slim, compact but dense, and modestly plump in all the right areas. His fingers landed gingerly on his slightly rounded stomach, which he particularly loved. “Bringing you some pleasure, Copia.”

At the use of his name, the Cardinal visibly softened. His eyes grew heavy. “Ah.”

Daius could feel Copia’s body relax under his hands, and he could see his dark pupils bloom. 

He had him.

Daius moved forward until he was pressed flush against him. “My full, happy, sated Copia,” he said against his lips. His hand moved without hesitation to rub between the Cardinal’s legs, and Copia released a beautiful moan beyond his own volition. “Let’s make an evening of it. What do you think?”

“You’re such a _demon_ , Christ,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m bad at hiding it.”

“Particularly bad tonight.”

Daius quieted him with a thumb against his mouth, which Copia caught lazily between his teeth, a futile and tipsy attempt to assert something resembling dominance. It was dismantled entirely when Daius started a slow and steady rhythm against the front of Copia’s trousers. He palmed him deliberately, enjoying the results of his efforts on the Cardinal’s enraptured face; his lovely eyes disappeared, silenced in the hollow blackness of the paint that darkened his sockets. 

“What do you intend to do with me, Daius?” he asked cautiously. The implication was obvious. What was reasonable on a full stomach? As much as his Hellish mind ran wild at the thought of ravishing him twelve ways over, Daius was feeling diplomatic that November evening. He was there to please.

“I _intend_ to have you lay back while I suck your cock,” Daius said bluntly. “Does that sound manageable to you?”

Copia released an unnecessary sigh, one that was all too indicative of his current state. He punctuated it with a tilt of his head. And then his accent thickened slightly, tightening a knot at the center of Daius’s chest as he replied, “Yes. Yes, I think I can manage that.”

The room was warming up with the first artificial heat of the cooler months to come as Daius lay the inebriated Cardinal on the large, white bed, carefully undoing button after button on his waistcoat. His eyes devoured every movement of the skin that appeared before him: the twitch of his pectorals, the self-conscious tensing of his diaphragm, and the eventual deep breaths that extended his soft stomach. Daius kneeled to run his tongue along the tender trail of hair beneath the Cardinal’s navel, and the sweet and tired sounds Copia offered in return granted him a sting of arousal. The ghoul immediately sent a hand to his own erection, calming it with the heel of his palm.

“Oh…” Copia moaned in abstract pleasure, his hand finding the back of the ghoul’s mask. “ _C-caro mio_ ,” he whispered. “ _Mio tesoro…_ ”

Daius knew enough about the Latinate languages to decipher what those terms of endearment meant. The outpouring of sentimentality surprised him. He glanced up, half expecting to see some measure of regret on the Cardinal’s face—but not so. Copia’s eyes were blissfully shut, and his head tilted back to expose his throat. His right hand threaded absently through his messy brown hair, and his cheeks glowed with feverish heat. 

Daius grinned. It felt as though he had gotten away with something. But what exactly, he couldn’t say.

The demon made quick work of the Cardinal’s trousers, sliding them down his shapely legs and discarding them on the floor. He took less care when removing his own, almost tripping as he pulled them from his feet.

His frontman lay bare before him, only his arms covered by his shirtsleeves and his hands still gloved in unfitting modesty. The blush of his cheeks was echoed tenderly between his legs, where his cock stood half-hard above his dark hair. Daius climbed astride his exposed body, drawing closer to the Cardinal’s face until he aligned their eyes. 

Copia seemed to sober at this for a moment, his eyes widening alertly so that he may better see the demon. He touched a hand gently to Daius’s chin.

“What in Hell did I unearth when I summoned you?” he asked. “Hm?”

Daius couldn’t give his answer in words.

The ghoul drew forward to lick Copia’s bottom lip. Sirens wailed down Michigan Avenue far below their windows, but Copia’s breathing was somehow louder in the ghoul’s ears, holding his attention as he gave him one proper, sweet kiss on his mouth. Copia released a breath through his nose and placed his hands firmly on Daius’s back, holding him close, keeping him there, elongating the affectionate gesture as long as he could.

It was with some regret that Daius pulled himself from the Cardinal’s warm lips, so warm that they called to mind memories of Hell.

As Daius shifted down the bed to place his head between his legs, Copia rested his arms behind his head lazily. It was a rare thing, indeed, to witness him with his guard down, handing himself and his comfort to another, relinquishing control. He looked almost beatific in the soft glow of the lamplight, the olive tones of his skin washed out where the light was strongest. Still visible, however, were a dusting of freckles on his nose and chest, which Daius only caught during intimate moments like these. He looked like a Baroque painting, all alabaster skin and lovely curves on a bed far too large for the two of them.

Copia’s dark lashes trembled as he closed his black-rimmed eyes, and his bottom lip slackened, just slightly revealing his teeth.

Daius swallowed. His mind’s honesty was deafening.

How _pretty_ he was. 

“Relax…” Daius said, as much for himself as for the frontman. He ran a thumb along his lower belly. “Just relax, and let me taste you.”

Without another word, Daius parted the Cardinal’s thighs and pushed the flat of his tongue against the head of his cock. A tremor coursed through Copia’s body, which melted into a low hum. The ghoul gripped him gently with his thin fingers as he pointed his tongue, dragging it across his tender slit. And when he dropped his jaw and took him fully in his mouth, the noises Copia made in return were the loveliest reward.

“Fuck, _la tua bocca_ —” 

Daius pulled back to laugh. “The Italian comes out in spades when you’re horny, doesn’t it?”

Copia pinched the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. “Not when I’m horny, Daius, when I’ve been _drinking_ ,” he asserted with a wave of his gloved hand. “Your mouth is very good. Very good,” he added quietly.

Daius could listen to that praise all evening. He hummed against the soft skin of his inner thigh. “Thank you, Cardinal,” he said. He returned his mouth to the frontman’s erection, catching a drop of precome with his tongue before closing his lips around him entirely. He tasted savory and warm, and the beating of his heart was steady, thrumming, heavy against Daius’s tongue. 

The ghoul held his head still at once, hollowing his cheeks to better feel his racing pulse within his mouth. And he dropped his hand immediately in surrender, gripping his own cock with firm, deliberate fingers, stroking himself in time with Copia’s heart. 

It was then that Daius took a turn indulging himself, his mind leafing through pleasurable thoughts of this Cardinal who summoned him—flashes of him on stage, swinging his hips obscenely for thousands, the same hips that he held tonight in his earthly hands. Those lips which sang and bewitched the masses, the same lips which now spun strings of Italian profanity and tangled those strings with Daius’s name. 

He thought of his tired eyes, his suppliant pose… and he thought of him eating and drinking his fill, unapologetic in his decadence. 

And his mouth moved faster along the length of him.

“Daius…” a sleepy voice interrupted. “I… I will come in your mouth if you keep this up. Is that what you want, Daius?”

That it was. Not that he had a chance to voice it. 

The ghoul came at once over his hand and the immaculate hotel bedclothes. He moaned weakly as he pressed his eyes shut, Copia’s breathing ever-present in his ears. The Cardinal was not far behind him. He spent himself in Daius’s mouth, muscle tensing against the demon’s persistent tongue. Daius took his time swallowing his release, all of it, before running his tongue once more along the head to be certain he was clean.

Copia let his head fall heavy on the soft down pillows. “Sweet Lucifer…” He took a moment to catch his breath, one gloved hand coming to rest delicately over his eyes. 

Daius hopped to his feet to fetch a stark white washcloth from the stark white bathroom nearby. He wiped his mouth and the edge of his mask with the back of his hand before tending to the mess at the edge of the bed. “Man, human sex is a nasty business, isn’t it? You’re going to want to avoid that spot on the bed.”

Copia squinted from under his hand. He scoffed. “Pssht. This bed is three times the size of mine—that shouldn’t be hard.”

The ghoul discarded the cloth in the sink before returning to slip on his underwear. “You know… it’s nice to see you like this.”

“Like what?” Copia asked suspiciously.

“Relaxed.” He pulled his trousers up around his spindly legs and fastened them around his narrow waist. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed. Remember the first time we tried this and Imperator came in? In the storage annex?” he reminisced with a chuckle.

Copia pulled his hand down his face in exasperation. “Oh _fuck_ , don’t remind me of that. Even thinking about it almost gives me a heart attack.”

Daius laughed. “You were so tense. I thought I’d break you if I touched you.” Gathering his buttoned shirt from the floor, he made his way to the front door without a conscious thought. “But this was a far cry from that. I meant what I said, Cardinal. You do owe yourself this more often.” He placed his hand on the handle and cracked it open.

He heard Copia shift into a sitting position behind him. “You can stay, you know,” he said kindly.

Daius paused and held the door open just an inch or two. Something in the Cardinal’s voice had harnessed his black heart. He turned around.

“I know you can’t sleep in this form,” Copia continued. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. You know. As long as we’re being indulgent…” He stopped to yawn. “I might as well indulge in my company as long as I can, hm?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Daius closed the door and rested the flat of his hand against the frame. “We’re going to be doing this a lot, aren’t we?”

Copia smirked. “Yes, I think so.”


End file.
